


Harry Potter and the Legacy of Gods

by CaedmonOfTheHighland



Series: Works that might never be finished [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Department of Mysteries, Don't give me your slash warning bullshit because you've been warned, Dudley's Gang - Freeform, Everyone is OP, F/F, F/M, Hogwarts, M/M, Magical Dudley Dursley, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry Potter, The characters are kind of ooc, Time Travel, WIP, Weird Plot Shit, Wizard Vernon Dursley, Wool's Orphanage (Harry Potter), fake twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaedmonOfTheHighland/pseuds/CaedmonOfTheHighland
Summary: Harry has more enemies than he thinks and they're hiding right under his nose, Dudley Dursley is undertaking the challenge of his life. Oh, and Vernon's a wizard? Ancient myths and modern wizardry collides as Harry Potter uncovers his heritage and the dark secrets that come with it.
Series: Works that might never be finished [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977109
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any aspect of the Harry Potter world (to my extreme disappointment) and I am not making any kind of profit from this fanfiction.

_***_

_The evening of October 31st 1981:_

Seated in his manor, Lord Voldemort looked down on his most pathetic and spineless follower.

"Master" he whimpered "I've good news"

Red eyes fixed on the small man, reducing him to nothing more than shuddering mess.

"The Potters... The Potters master. They are within our reach."

The dark lord stood, looming above his follower as the mousy man before him fell to his knees. 

"They are within _our_ reach?"

"Yes my lord" 

"Oh, Wormtail" The lord lamented, crouching to meet his follower's eyes. "When will you learn"

A long finger made it's way down Wormtail's cheek, tracing imaginary runes and patterns across his clammy skin.

"There is no us, There will never be us. We are not a team Peter. I am your master. Your victories are my victories but the opposite does not hold true."

He flicked his wand out of his sleeve.

"You'd do best to remember that... Crucio"

Peter Pettigrew's pathetic screams graced his ears. How he loved it when his followers screamed for him. Their cries were songs, regaling him with tales of their woes. 

He held Pettigrew under for only a few moments before straightening. 

"Tell me Wormtail, where are the Potters?"

The man in question lay, spazzing on the ground. He tried to push himself up to no avail.

"Wormtail." His lord demanded.

Wormtail struggled to sit up so that he may tell his lord where the Potters were. His arms, after several more failed attempts, managed to manoeuvre the rest of his body into an upright position.

"Wormtail, I will not ask again."

"Godrick's Hollow my lord" Wormtail struggled. He had never had the greatest pain tolerance so even the smallest exposure to the cruciatus left him with a raw throat and shivering limbs. 

"Take me." 

Voldemort strode over to Wormtail and placed a pale hand on his shoulder.

After a few more shivers, Peter Pettigrew collected enough magic to apparate away. they appeared in the outskirts of the small wizarding village. Wormtail then collapsed, shaking.

"You've done well Wormtail. Now, tell me their address" he lowered his ear to his servant, knowing that he was too afraid and too weak to try anything traitorous. 

Wormtail shuddered and whispered his friends' address into his master's ear. Voldemort grinned, excitement starting to creep up on him.

"Very good Pettigrew. You will wait here while I slay the child"

Peter nodded frantically as his lord turned his back on him and walked away into the village. 

It was a short walk to the Potters' cottage which stood in outermost ends of the village where there were a few kilometres in between houses. In his excitement, he failed to notice a spectator. 

The onlooker, perched in a nearby tree, watching closely. His silhouette looked like that of a superhero with his dark cloak flapping in the air and his hood drawn low over his head. Like the dark lord, he was also struggling to hold in his glee at the inevitable downfall of James and Lily Potter. For different reasons of course but the enemy of your enemy is your friend as they say. The onlooker didn't even need to dirty his hands. The only reason for his presence there in the first place was to watch Lily Potter and her son get blasted into oblivion. 

Voldemort elegantly made his way to the doorstep. He could not be bothered to unlock the Potters' front door and instead, it was just blown it off its hinges. He made his way into the house as though he owned the place, quickly coming face to face with a wandless James Potter. 

The onlooker shifted, jumping with a grace that should have been impossible for a man as bulky as he was. He landed lightly on the ground and sat on top of a trash can near the window, providing him with a perfect view of Lily Potter cowering near her son's crib. 

Lord Voldemort made quick work of James Potter, swiftly advancing up the small staircase that led to the nursery. From his spot outside, the onlooker could see Lily flinch at every step the man took towards the nursery. His expression lit up like a child on Christmas when he saw the pale-skinned, dark-haired lord burst through the doorway, levelling his wand at the crib in the middle of the room. 

Grey eyes betrayed nothing more when Lily threw herself in front of the dark lord but a bushy eyebrow lifted marginally when a green curse did not immediately hit the woman. Instead, Voldemort stood in front of the woman as she pleaded with him, looking more aggravated by the second but seemingly talking to Lily. Eventually, the man lost his patience. Lily was thrown backwards and Avada Kedavra was fired into her chest. Her limp body fell to the floor of the nursery. 

Her son, the one-year-old Harry Potter, was being uncharacteristically quiet. Green eyes followed his mother's body fall to the ground and flicked back up to her murderer. His eyes conveyed no emotion, and if it were possible for a baby to do so, one would think he was analyzing Voldemort. 

The dark lord advanced on the infant, stepping over his fallen mother. Red eyes flashed with contempt as he looked down on the defenceless child. 

"And you're supposed to be my equal?" he scoffed "That just won't do" 

A wave of his wand sent a beam of light towards the infant. It hit the child and the boy pulsed with a soft green light before a mini-explosion lit up the room. Voldemort was thrown backwards and hit the wall behind him. His body slumped against the wall before dissolving in an ethereal white light that did not suit the man at all. 

The spectator stared wide-eyed at the scene in front of him. The youngest Potter continued to stare at the corner where Voldemort had been thrown, blood now dripping down his forehead. It was now sporting a nasty, jagged cut on his forehead.

Then the child's gaze turned onto him. Steel met Emerald as they stared at each other. the onlooker felt an irrational panic rising in him. The child would not remember this day. It would fade from his memory as he grew and cultivated new ones. Still, he felt that those eyes saw too much. The eyes were a window to the soul after all and Harry Potter had just shattered his panes. Uncomfortable and unsettled, he averted his gaze and analyzed the aftermath of the Dark Lord's visit to the Potters'.

Paintings that had once been hung neatly on the walls found themselves torn and askew. The carpet was covered in a fine layer of dust and rock. A crack that would've been alarming to anyone who actually cared could be found on one of the legs of baby Potter's crib and shrapnel was everywhere. A piece of wood that was reminiscent of a stake had impaled the infant's hand. 

As he was staring at the wreckage, the telltale crack of apparation rang through the air. The observer cast a stronger disillusionment spell on himself and stayed where he was. Sirius Black and Rubeus Hagrid strolled in, chatting animatedly about an escaped hippogriff case in the ministry. They both stopped in their tracks when they saw the unhinged door of the cottage. Sirius rushed in, wand out only to find the corpse of his best friend laying discarded on the ground.

"Lily?" Hagrid called in his booming voice as Sirius looked up from James' body.

"That backstabbing little rat," he snarled "I'll kill him," 

Sirius glanced back at Hagrid. 

"Check on Lily and Harry, I've got a rat to hunt down," 

He then morphed into a black retriever and took off running out the front door. 

Hagrid stared at the doorway, confused. The eerie silence to house snapped him back to reality and he climbed the stairs, causing them to scream under his weight. He reached the landing, growing more concerned when he saw the nursery door open as well, he walked into the room where Lily Potter's corpse lay in front of her son's crib. He let out a small gasp and rushed over to pick up and cradle the infant. He carefully extracted the wood from the poor infant's hand before bringing him down to the living room where green eyes locked on their lifeless sire, sprawled on the ground. Harry was set down on the couch so Hagrid could kneel at the hearth and fire call Albus Dumbledore. 

The moment Hagrid stepped away from the fire, two more cracks could be heard outside the door and Albus Dumbledore rushed in with his right hand, Minerva McGonagall. 

Albus was an elderly man. Though not frail, he has been grey for longer than many have been alive. His long beard and hair have probably been growing out since before Hagrid's birth.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid exclaimed. "It's awful."

The old bespectacled man simply nodded and wandered over to where baby Harry had been sat on the couch. Their eyes locked and they stayed like that, staring at each other for several minutes. 

"Er Albus," Minerva asked after he had been staring at Harry for an extensive amount of time.

"Right, sorry Minerva," He stood and brushed imaginary dust from his robes. "It seems that Lord Voldemort was here in the flesh," 

His statement earned a gasp from the two other adults.

"Yes, it is shocking but I'm afraid it is the truth. Luckily for us, young Mr Potter here seems to have fought him off,"

"Surely an infant could not combat the most fearsome dark lord in centuries, Albus,"

"Alas, this one did and he came out on top. Voldemort will not be a bother for a great many more years," 

Minerva sighed softly. 

"He will be a hero. Worshipped by those the Dark Lord terrorized and by the generations to come," She realized "He will have to grow up with this fame he didn't ask for," 

Albus looked at her, blue eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge. 

"Perhaps not," He mused and Minerva's eyes widened exponentially.

"Albus, you cannot-"She started

"I have to Minerva. If he has any hope to live a regular childhood, he must live with his muggle relatives." 

"You've had me scouting them for months..." She trailed off "You planned for this! You expected this to happen. Albus Percival Wilfric Brian Dumbledore, you expected James and Lily's death?"

Dumbledore refused to meet her gaze.

"Of course I didn't want it to happen but it was a very possible scenario,"

Minerva's glare softened slightly.

"We put so many protections in place and yet, he still found them. We cannot take such risks with Harry,"

The slight incline of his companions' heads was his only indication that they understood his reasoning.

He picked the baby up and bounced him gently in his arms. 

"I suppose we should be getting harry here to his new home," Dumbledore said as he handed the baby to Hagrid.

"Apparating with a child is not without risks and I'm not too keen on taking any with Harry," He told him, "Would you get him to privet drive?"

"O' course Headmaster," Hagrid responded, taking the baby. 

Dumbledore and Minerva nodded and disapparated as Hagrid brought Harry to Sirius' flying motorcycle which was conveniently parked outside. A turn of the key in the ignition had them flying off into the sky.

The spectator, ignorant of their previous conversation, discreetly hopped onto his broom and chased after the duo. He was intent on finding out where they were going to hide ickle Harry Potter. 

The flight was a long one. The weather was miserable, perhaps the sky was reflecting the tragedy it had just witnessed. The cold wind stung at any exposed skin it could get to and the rain made him damp. He cursed his lack of forethought. If he had cast an impervious charm on his cloak before leaving, he would be vastly more comfortable right now. Luckily when the onlooker was beginning to evaluate the dangers of falling off one's broom several hundred feet in the air just so that they could be dry, Hagrid's borrowed motorbike started to lower. 

The cloaked figure glanced down at the view and was surprised to find himself in Surrey. He thanked the stars that the Potter spawn would be living near his home so that he may get there quicker than he predicted and dry himself off. 

He followed Hagrid down, landing on the top of his house. He sat on top of the roof, fat legs swinging over the side and observed the scene below him. Dumbledore and McGonagall rushed immediately over to Hagrid when he landed, taking the child and placing him into a wicker basket. 

The cloaked figure resisted the urge to snicker. The boy looked like a picnic for a family of cannibalistic muggles. Not to mention the checkered blanket they had wrapped him in. 

Dumbledore wrote out a small message and placed it on the child before moving closer to his house. For the third time that night, The onlooker's eyes widened. And then he laughed. A great, hearty laugh. that would've awoken his whole neighbourhood had he not cast a silencing charm on his cloak. 

He clutched his stomach as Albus Dumbledore placed the saviour of the wizarding world on his doorstep. The hilarity of the situation was making it hard for him not to fall off the roof. Soon enough, the trio of Hogwarts employees dissaparated with varying degrees of sorrow staining their faces. He then let himself fall off of the roof, landing gracefully on his porch.

waving his wand in a complicated motion, he reapplied the glamour he wore during his daily life. He then picked up the child that had been left on his doorstep.

"They've done you wrong young heir," He whispered "Their slight against you will be to my advantage. Enjoy your pain little one, you will never escape it now,"

He stepped towards the door and pushed his key into the lock, turning it and pushing the door open. 

"Petunia dear, I'm home!" He rumbled, stepping into the house.

His wife of four years came rushing to meet him. 

"Vernon!" She exclaimed happily before noticing the child in his arms. "Why are you holding my freak of a sister's son?" 

***


	2. A Friendly Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Child Abuse.
> 
> The speaking of Parseltongue is indicated by Italics
> 
> I don't own any aspect of the Harry Potter world (to my extreme disappointment) and I am not making any kind of profit from this fanfiction.

***

_June 23rd 1991_

The sounds that woke Harry Potter on the morning of June 23rd 1991 could only be compared to the bombs falling during the London blitz a rough 50 years before. Sawdust fell and coated his face as his whale of a cousin jumped repeatedly on the stairs above the cupboard that was his bedroom.

"Wakey wakey, freak." The boy taunted, still jumping up and down.

The stairs looked as though they would give way and the heavy-set boy would fall through them and onto his more petite and fragile cousin. He rolled away from that particular area as he fumbled blindly for his glasses.

"It's my birthday!" His cousin yelled before finally running down the stairs in a perfect imitation of a horde of wild rhinoceros.

Groaning, Harry found his glasses, unfolded them and put them onto his face, his room focusing instantly though still a bit blurry as they also received a fine coating of sawdust.

He stood as much as he could in the small space and started to push open the door to the cupboard only to have it slammed in his face by his cousin, launching back towards his miniature mattress. Harry's head connected with a beam as he fell, making a sickening crack.

He rubbed the back of his head, cursing the day Dudley Dursley was conceived. If only his aunt and uncle had kept it in their pants, he would never have had to put up with this.

Carefully waiting and listening for Dudley's thundering footsteps, he finally opened his door again when he was sure the boy was gone. He ducked under the doorway and found himself in the hall connecting the foyer to the kitchen. He walked quickly towards that very same kitchen, foregoing any kind of morning routine to make the breakfast his "Family" expected him to make for them every morning.

He easily slipped around the rest of the small family as his Aunt and Uncle were currently occupied by their son, who was throwing a tantrum so big that it was a five-year-old's dream.

"ONLY 36 PRESENTS? LAST YEAR THERE WERE 38!" He screamed, his plump face creating a completely new shade of red.

"Yes, Dudders but some of the presents are bigger this yea-"

"I DON'T CARE IF THEY'RE BIGGER,"

"Tell you what Dudders, we'll go out and buy three more presents after the zoo today"

Dudley glared sullenly at his mother but could not argue against getting more presents than he did last year.

Harry watched the scene, mildly amused as he cooked up bacon and pancakes for his relatives. when it was ready, he served all the food up onto the table.

His aunt Petunia gestured to the recently made food.

"Here, have some breakfast Diddykins," She told her son.

At the mention of food, Dudley's attitude did a complete one-eighty. He nearly ran to the table and started scarfing down Harry's cooking as the other boy slipped away to go wash up. He, unfortunately, did not get the chance as the doorbell rung moments later and Dudley came barreling down the hallway, pushing harry out of the way and back into his cupboard, so that he may meet his friend at the door.

Harry pulled himself out of the closet to see Dudley talking animatedly to his best friend, Piers Polkiss and his mother. Syrup and bacon grease covered his cousin's lips and dripped down his face slowly. Harry winced, feeling mildly sympathetic for Piers.

He wasn't quite sure what to think about Dudley's friend. The boy was kind enough to him at times then he would turn around and hold Harry down while Dudley kicked the life out of him. He was not particularly aggressive or fit or frightening like the other members of Dudley's small gang. No, he was scrawny and short. He avoided conflict as often as he could and would run with his tail between his legs if he was caught without his group of friends.

Harry shook his head and moved on, trying to get to the washroom so he could wash up. he nearly made it to the stairs this time before his wrist was grabbed and tugged painfully out the door.

He bit back his complaints when he saw Vernon Dursley's steel grey eyes staring down at him menacingly. He had no particular wish to risk his wrath for something as small as a bruised wrist.

The man gestured at a pile of bags that by the front door.

"Load up the car, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon" He dipped his head obediently as Vernon walked away.

While he may be able to get away some small transgressions with his aunt and his cousin, his uncle was an entirely different matter. Vernon was to be obeyed lest you wish to suffer beatings that straddled the line of needing hospital care.

He shuddered and set to work loading up the car. He wondered what the Dursley's could possibly need that weighed as much as a small piano as he dragged the bags through the driveway. They might've just filled the bags with cement and asked him to move them just to watch him suffer. It certainly sounded like Vernons's Modus Operandi*.

He was dragging the second bag across the pavement when a pair of hands shifted his to the side and grabbed ahold of the handle. He looked over in shock to find Piers Polkiss helping him with the bags. The boy that looked suspiciously like a rat grunted as they pulled the bag together, their combined efforts making it much easier to transport whatever Harry's uncle had bagged.

With Piers' help, they finished moving the bags in a matter of fifteen minutes, both wiping sweat off their brows.

"Thank you" Harry thanked, looking to his cousin's best friend.

The eleven-year-old looked down shyly.

"Y'r Welcome" He mumbled

"Boy" a cold voice growled from the entrance to the house. "Did you force Piers to help you?"

Harry's eyes widened. He looked up to see Vernon, Dudley and Petunia watching them.

"No sir."

Large feet shuffled towards them at an alarming pace.

"Tell me the truth freak." He spat.

Harry looked to Piers for help but found saw him steadily avoiding his gaze.

'Traitor' he sighed in his thoughts. That boy confused him to no ends. He sucked in a deep breath, preparing for what was to come.

"Yes sir, I forced Piers to help me,"

A fire lit behind his uncle's eyes. He was given a quick once over before the large man turned to the rest of his family.

"Harry is not at all decent to be outside. Climb into the car everyone, I'll take him inside,"

The act was solely for Piers and any neighbours that might be watching through the small space in between their curtains. He let himself be dragged into the house, missing the apologetic look he was sent by Piers.

He was thrown against the wall in the hallway the moment he and Vernon were away from any windows. He fell to the ground, landing hard on his bruised wrist.

"You're lucky I can't hurt you right now little freak," Vernon spoke angrily, "But you can expect a bloody good punishment when we get back home. And no more funny business or I'll lock you up when I'm done,"

Harry nodded quickly.

"What was that boy?"

"Yes sir, sorry sir,"

"Good. Now get changed so Dudders can enjoy his birthday."

Harry raced back to his broom cupboard and put some of the slightly better fitting hand me downs on before looking at his wrist. It definitely shouldn't look like that. he wrapped his wrist up and put his hand into a glove hoping no one would question his winter gear in the middle of the summer. It was all he could do for his wrist without a medical professional looking over it or the proper supplies.

He ran out of his closet and out of the door with his wrist tucked to his chest and climbed into the backseat as Piers moved over to give him a bit of space.

He gave the marginally older book a subtle dirty look before setting to work putting his seatbelt on with only one hand and was equal parts surprised and infuriated when he felt Piers reach over to help him with his seatbelt.

He was about to glare at the boy some more when he caught his uncle watching him through the rearview mirror. He settled for nodding politely at Piers and scooting as far as possible from the boy.

He watched the highway roll by as they drove, studiously ignoring the rest of the car's occupants. Lively music blasted out of their stereo as they rolled merrily towards the Marwell zoo.

The drive passed in a flash and soon they were unloading themselves in the parking lot of the zoo. To his disdain, Piers helped him with his seatbelt once more and gently pushed him out of the car.

Harry pulled out only one of the bags from the trunk (It turns out that the Dursley Family only really needed one bag) and lugged as they made their way to the entrance of the zoo. The clerk looked the five of them over.

"How old is your little one there?" She asked them with a smile. Harry opened his mouth to tell her but was cut off by his uncle's response.

"He's 8 years old, this young lad," He announced with fake pride, shooting a warning glance at Harry.

The clerk cooed at him and ruffled his hair before ringing up their tickets.

"Lucky you, young man," She told him as she handed him his ticket. "Everyone under 9 gets to go in for free!"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, remembering the throbbing pain in his wrist.

"Thanks, Miss" He replied meekly, playing the part of a child. He was vaguely annoyed that the lady thought he was 8 years old but he couldn't fault her for not seeing through Vernon's lie.

Partly because of his genes and partly because of the regular malnutrition he suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, He was much too short to be 10 years old. The cupboard might have had a hand in his subpar height too. His features were youthful but that was not uncommon among children. His green eyes were wide and expressive, and his large glasses magnified them further, causing him to resemble one of those Japanese cartoon characters in the shows Dudley would sometimes watch when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were out.

"And such good manners too. You've done a mighty fine job with this one, you have,"

Uncle Vernon grinned ferally.

"We have, haven't we Petunia?"

His wife only offered a polite smile and a nod before dragging everyone into the zoo. Piers and Dudley wandered off in the direction of the exotic cats while Harry went in the exact opposite direction, not caring what exhibit he would find there.

It was to his pleasant surprise that he found the reptile exhibit after a couple of minutes of walking. He strolled down the reptile house, staring with wonder at all the tanks and the exotic animals contained within. A particular darkly coloured serpent caught his eye. It lay immobile in its tank, flicking its tongue out lazily and sporadically.

" _Hello there,_ " he whispered to the snake. " _I pity you for the life you are forced to live,_ "

He glanced at the sign on the outside of the tank before his eyes flicked back to the serpent which had shifted and was now a little closer to Harry.

" _You're not the only one who lives in captivity,_ " he sighed, setting himself down on the bench outside. " _At least you have a window in your cage,_ "

The snake moved at that, rising and swaying as it looked down at its newfound companion.

Harry heard a small gasp behind him and a kid that could be no older than 5 was staring at him in wonder.

" _Have you lost your mother?_ " He asked, his voice coming out a bit more raspy than usual.

The kid's wide eyes widened further, fear overtaking his features.

"Mommy," It wailed running over to a short, blonde lady with a stroller standing nearby, 'That boy is a snake. He's a snake in disguise,"

The child continued to cry as his mother soothed him in her arms and made her way over to Harry.

"Excuse me young man but terrorizing children is despicable," She scolded him, her crying son in her arms, "Where are your parents?"

Harry looked around in search of an escape only to see the Dursleys and Piers heading towards them. His eyes bulged and he looked down, trying to regulate his breathing and school his face into a blank mask.

"Well?" the woman asked.

"Is he bothering you, miss?" Petunia asked from behind the blonde.

"He's picking on my son! Are you this child's mother?"

"I am his current guardian, yes"

"Mommy," the kid whined, "He was speaking snake."

Vernon looked at Harry with glee.

"Was he now? Well, ma'am, we're very sorry about Harry here, he'll be watched much more closely now,"

The lady huffed, looking a bit disappointed.

"You'd better," she stalked off towards a dark-haired man at the other end of the reptile house, presumably her husband.

"Look, Dad, the snake is moving!"

A familiar small whale ran up to the glass, frightening the serpent and causing it to rear backwards. It lost its balance very inelegantly and flopped over, falling onto the ground in his cage. Harry snorted and if snakes could glare, that one was doing it. It slithered into the back of the tank and under some rocks.

This displeased Dudley immensely and he pressed his face against the glass, pounding rhythmically on it.

"Make it move dad!" He whined, voice mildly obstructed from the glass pressed against his mouth.

"Move it! Come on now!" Vernon yelled at the tank, fists pounding even harder than Dudley's

"This is boring" The birthday boy complained before dragging his friend off to go see the 'Cooler Snakes'. His parents trailed after him once they had warned Harry against going anywhere else.

Harry sat on the bench, looking over at the rock that he knew the snake was hiding under.

" _God, I might even envy you,_ " he told the snake.

A small diamond head inched slowly out from under the rock to give him another snake glare.

" _Why am I even talking to a snake_ " he sighed, turning away and fiddling with the hem of his glove.

He turned back to the snake after a moment.

" _You are a really good listener though. It might be because you can't talk but I guess that doesn't matter so much,_ " he rambled, ignoring the snake's slow approach.

" _You'd be surprised,_ " A muffled voice hissed.

Harry jumped, looking around in a panic

" _What_ "

" _Did you forget you were talking to me hatchling?_ "

He turned towards the snake tank.

" _Are you talking to me?_ "

" _No,_ " It hissed " _I was talking to the small elephant that barreled by a few minutes ago,_ "

Harry snickered.

" _You mean Dudley?_ "

" _If that is what you call it, then yes_ ,"

" _Wait, how can do you speak English? I thought snakes didn't have vocal cords,_ " he paused " _Or ears,_ "

" _You are very knowledgeable about my species,_ "

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

" _Dudley doesn't use his textbooks all that often so I end up making use of them,_ "

" _Textbooks?_ "

" _I- Nevermind,_ "

" _The elephant is returning,_ "

Harry glanced off to the side and saw that the snake was right, the Dursley family was returning.

" _How do you know what an elephant is but not a textbook? You're a South American snake,_ "

"Look at the freak now, pretending to talk to a snake. Are you so lonely that you turn to freaky animals for company?" Dudley taunted as he neared

" _Freaky?_ " the snake hissed indignantly. " _I am a majestic creature,_ "

Harry snorted.

"You find that funny freak?"

Harry stayed silent, determined not to worsen the issue.

"Not answering? Maybe your pet snake will tell us," Dudley pounded on the glass with renewed ferocity and with every sound of fist meeting glass, Harry's finger rose a bit more inside him.

His fists clenched, carving crescents into his palm.

Then Dudley pounded one more time and his anger was released.

The glass cracked. A moment passed before the cracks formed and intricate spiderweb and imploded, landing inside the tank. The momentum of Dudley's next swing against the tank threw him in as the snake slithered out.

" _Thanks for that,_ " It hissed before slithering away. in the direction of a dense clump of trees.

Harry offered the snake a salute and turned back to the tank, ready to help right his wrong by helping Dudley out of the tank. But when he reached out in front of him, his hand hit a wall of thick glass.

He recoiled, surprised. Hadn't the glass shattered just a few minutes ago? But there it was, solid as ever. On the other side of the glass, Dudley stumbled to his feet and pressed his hands to the glass.

"Maam? Daed? H'llo?" He cried "g't me out!"

Petunia ran up to him, running her hands on the glass.

"Oh, my poor Diddy. Don't worry, we'll get you out of there,"

Amidst the chaos, Vernon Dursely was yelling at a nearby zoo worker.

"What kind of establishment is this? Deadly animals are getting lose, customers are getting trapped in cages-" He continued to scold to the employee, who simply nodded for a while then scurried away to try to find a way to extract Dudley from the tank.

Off to the side, Piers looked torn between gaping at the newly restored glass and laughing at his friend's predicament. He settled an expression that made him look constipated.

It took the zoo twenty minutes to get Dudley out of the snake tank. The door that the employees used to feed the snake was much too small for him to fit through so they had to find a saw and saw a hole through the back of the tank. Unfortunately, there were no electric saws anywhere to be found and they had to settle for a manual one.

So some poor chap from the front desk had to take on the gruelling task of sawing a hole big enough for Dudley Dursley to fit through. Once their son was freed, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon dragged him back to their shiny Porsche. His clothes were dripping with snake pond water and he was covered in dirt but Harry and Piers wisely chose not to comment on it.

The drive home was uncomfortable at best. Harry was caught between a foul-smelling, dirt-covered Dudley and a silent Piers. They dropped Piers off at his house before driving up the street to number 4 Privet Drive.

Harry was nearly launched from the car as Dudley climbed out, landing hard on the asphalt below. He said nothing of it though, figuring he'd caused a bit too much trouble for the day. It seemed his uncle thought so too since the moment he stepped into the house, he dragged him up the stairs by the collar, belt in hand.

He didn't make a sound, not even when his injured wrist hit a stair and pain lanced through his arm. Vernon threw him into the bedroom at the end of the hall, walking in behind him.

"You caused a lot of trouble today freak." He snarled, looking glaring down at him.

Harry only bowed his head, mentally preparing for what was to come. His emotions shut down, his face becoming a mask of indifference. It was a pretty handy trick he had picked up over the years to salvage what was left of his pride. His uncle could beat him all he wants but he will never get the satisfaction of seeing his reaction to it.

Vernon ran the belt through his hands, a large smile on his face.

"How many lashes do you think all that trouble was worth?"

"Ten?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Try again,"

"Fifteen,"

"I was thinking something along the lines of Fifty,"

Harry resisted reacting as he normally would. Fifty lashes was surely enough to break his skin. Vernon usually avoided doing that as much as possible so that Harry's treatment would only leave mental marks. He must be particularly angry about the zoo incidence. Harry whistled internally. Vernon was clearly a much better actor than he thought, to be able to restrain his anger until they got home.

"Your shirt, boy"

Harry slipped off his oversized shirt and folded it neatly before placing it on the floor beside him.

The moment he put his shirt down, a piece of metal dug into him. He fell forward, landing on his good arm.

"Good, stay on the ground, it's easier to hit you that way"

Harry stayed where he was, not daring to move an inch. He looked around and caught sight of Vernon's bedding. ' _That sheet is a horrendous colour. Honestly, It looks like someone bled all over it and they just left the crusty brown blood on it- GAH_ ' Vernon brought the belt down again, his tan skin making contact with the metal buckle. They continued like this, Harry keeping a barrage of thoughts flowing to distract him from the pain and Vernon bringing down his belt again and again. Harry's back turned red after thirty lashes. It began splitting at forty. By the time he finished the fifty lashes, Harry was laying on the ground, lost in a sea of random thoughts. His back was split open in several places, blood visible but stagnant.

Vernon said nothing as he grabbed Harry's ear to drag him back down the stairs. He was thrown into his cupboard and the door slammed in his face, leaving him damp with sweat, in pain and cold.

The sound of drawers being fumbled through and the tap running could be heard and he wondered what his Uncle was doing in the kitchen.

He found out soon enough when the cupboard door opened again and a damp spongelike rectangle fell in his lap.

"Bon Appetit" His uncle chuckled, locking the door and walking away to go watch his son open his birthday presents.

Harry felt the rectangle and discovered that it was not, in fact, a sponge. It was much and didn't return to its original shape if he pushed parts of it down. he brought it to his nose and sniffed it.

'Is this... bread? he gave me soggy bread for dinner?'

Harry grimaced at the bread and took a tentative bite. The texture waged war on his mouth, causing him to fight his natural reaction to it (which would be spitting it out). He chewed it and swallowed hard. He put the bread on a side table, hoping it would dry out in a few hours and touched a finger to the gashes on his back.

He winced and fumbled around for some kind of bandage or even a spare shirt. He had nothing long enough to wrap around his entire torso so he just put a clean shirt on the small mattress to protect his open wounds and lay on top of it. He curled up into fetal position, trying to stave off the stinging cold, despite the fact that it was mid-June and the highest temperatures of the year were fast approaching.

As Harry lay, curled up in his cupboard, he cried. He wept silently, overwhelmed by his hunger, his pain and his isolation. He shook as he cried, leaving small tearstains on his chunky pillow. He cried until he ran out of tears at which point he fell asleep as there was nothing else to do.

He slept through the rest of the day and well into the night. He heard hooting outside and the drop of something light against the front porch. He only turned over and went back to sleep, and he would never again think of the owl he heard outside on Dudley's eleventh birthday.

***

Harry was able to wake up much more peacefully the next morning. It was early, so everyone else was still asleep in their rooms. Birds chirped outside and a small stream of light penetrated the room, lighting up the circular scar on his left hand. his wrist was still throbbing dully and limp against his mattress.

He fumbled around in the corner of the cupboard and pulled out a flashlight and one of his Aunt Petunia's old high school textbooks. He had found the jackpot when he was cleaning out the basement a year ago. Petunia and Vernon's outdated textbooks were not the best way to learn but Harry did not go to school during the week like Dudley and was not the type to disregard any source of information. He had nothing of his own, no toys or clothes. Everything he owned had once been Dudley's and were very used. His meagre second-hand belongings were also what he was often threatened with when he didn't want to do the housework. They would take away all of his shirts or pants and only return them when the work he had done was to their satisfaction.

Gardening in one's knickers was a particularly humiliating experience and Harry had become much more obedient to prevent himself from having to go through that again.

Essentially, the only thing he had that could not be confiscated by the Dursleys was knowledge. Short of wiping his mind clean, there was nothing anyone could do once he learned something. So after the Dursley's made him learn to read when he was five so he read the labels of their storage boxes, he had been snatching books to read in his cupboard.

His well of knowledge grew slowly but surely. During his routine cleaning of the basement, he would sneak books back into their boxes and take a few others into the cupboard.

It was not long before he obtained his crown jewel, the only book that stayed in his cupboard at all times; a glossy dictionary. It had been stashed in a dark corner of the bottom floor and covered in a significant amount of dust.

He had leafed through the thick book several times, taking his time with every word, writing it out in the dust on the floor and sounding it out. Whenever he came across a word he didn't know in a book, he would look it up in a dictionary. If he didn't find it there, he would ask the elderly Mrs Figg who lived across the street when the Dursley's dumped him on her front step. Usually before a vacation or an excursion into the city.

Mrs Figg had a huge library in her house so he looked forwards to the Dursleys' frequent vacations. He spent his days holed up among the books, devouring book after book. The result was a ten year old with a vocabulary that far exceeded that of many and a strange taste for old romance novels. Many of which were rather steamy and definitely not suitable for a child to read.

But other than the massive amounts of books with unrealistic sex scenes, Mrs Figg's library contained books upon books on every subject imaginable. From fairytales to rocket science, Mrs Figg had it all. Of course, Harry was still working himself up to rocket science but he was sure he had surpassed Dudley when it came to theoretical knowledge.

He figured that Mrs Figg either knew about his situation with the Dursleys or suspected it because on the days he finished his impossible list of chores earlier, she would let him into her house without a word, letting him seek solace in the library and gently pushing him back towards the Dursleys' when dinner time was approaching. He quite enjoyed curling up on one of the old sofas in the huge room with a cat in his lap and a book in his hands.

Shaking himself from his musings, he turned back to Petunia's 10th-grade mathematics textbook, turning to the chapter on Logarithms. He set his flashlight up in a way that he wouldn't have to hold it so he could flip the pages and trace the equations on the ground with his good hand.

He had been reading for an hour when he heard someone coming down the stairs. Judging by the heavy footsteps, he guessed it was Vernon. He quickly stashed the book and flashlight in the corner adjacent to the cupboard door. Since he cleaned everything, the Durselys never bothered to search his cupboard, making that corner the best one for hiding things.

He heard the bolt come unstuck and the door creaked open, letting more light into the small space.

"Get up freak," He told him, before turning around and walking towards the kitchen.

Harry pushed himself up with his good hand and waddled into the kitchen where Vernon was sitting, reading the paper. He hobbled over to the stove, turning on the gas and went to grab the eggs from the fridge. He cracked the eggs rather impressively with one hand before whisking them in preparation.

As Harry cooked, Petunia and Dudley also sat at the table, busying themselves with their own interests. It wasn't long before their eggs were served. Harry saved a little for himself seeing as he had only really eaten a bit of wet bread yesterday.

"Go fetch the mail boy," Aunt Petunia demanded before tucking into her meal.

'It would be pathetically easy to poison those three, honestly,' Harry observed as they all ate without even looking at the food. 'If you're going to have your food made by slave labour, you should be at least a little wary of it'

He turned and walked towards the front door where the mail sat in a pile at the front door. He picked it up, walked back to the kitchen and handed them to Petunia as Vernon had already gone back upstairs to get ready for work.

She took them wordlessly and shuffled through them, setting aside all of the bills. When she came upon the last envelope, her face blanched. She stopped breathing as she stared at the yellowed envelope, adorned with emerald green ink. Then she stuffed it into her pocket and turned to the boys.

"Diddy, how would you like to have a playdate with your friend Gordon Garraway?"

Dudley's face lit up and Petunia took that as a yes. She walked over to the phone and called up Mrs Garraway, telling her about how her son missed Gordon dearly and how he wanted them to hang out this morning. It seems that Mrs Garraway agreed so Dudley would be going to a water park with Gordon in an hour.

Petunia grabbed her keys and grabbed Harry's arm. "You're going to Mrs Figg's boy,"

Harry was ecstatic. He did not know what had brought on this impromptu trip but he was very grateful for it. He was grateful for anything that meant he could sit in Mrs Figg's library rather than doing chores all day.

Petunia nearly ran upstairs to grab her coat and keys before loading Dudley into her car and walking across the street with Harry to make sure he actually went to Mrs Figg's.

They stood at the old woman's door as they waited for her to open it. It creaked open and half an aged face peeked out.

"Ah, Petunia dear. How are you these days?"

"Hello Arabella, I'm doing wonderful, thank you. I was hoping you could take Harry off our hands for the day. We have to run errands all day and we have no one to look after him,"

"Of course Petunia!"

She turned to Harry

"Come now dear, Mister Muffins has been rather sad that you haven't been around in a while"

She led him farther into the house, not even bothering to close the front door.

Petunia sighed and shut the door, walking back to her car so that she could drop off Dudley. And in her pocket, possibly smudging green ink in her sweater pocket, a cursed letter sat crumpled up.

' _Dear Dudley Dursley of number 4 Privet Drive,_ ' It wrote ' _We formally invite you to attend your first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry,_'

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Modus Operandi: A Latin phrase that translates to Way of Operating. It describes a particular way a person would do something, usually a way that is characteristic to that person. 


	3. Chapter 2: Magical Human Trafficking and Small Men

***

_June 24th 1991:_

Petunia scurried into the leaky cauldron quietly. She cast a glance of disdain at the strangely dressed figures around her before venturing towards the bar. The bartender noticed her before she even sat down. 

"Hullo love, what can I do for you"

"Could you open the doorway to Diagon Alley please Mr...?"

"Tom. And of course, follow me,"

Tom led her out a door at the back of a pub and into the dingy alleyway that was behind in. She stood warily in the doorway as he took out his wand and tapped it on different bricks. As soon as he finished the sequence the wall slid open, revealing a bustling alleyway.

"Off you go Madam," 

She forced a smile and nodded politely at him before setting off down the busy alley towards the tall marble bank. She manoeuvred around everyone blocking her way, careful not to anger any of them as she didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of a hex. Finally, she found herself in front of the marble bank. She pushed her way into Gringotts and stepped up to a till where a Goblin was standing. 

"Your key."

Petunia fumbled around in her pockets before pulling out a small brass key. She handed it to The goblin who closely inspected it before calling over another Goblin.

"Take Miss Evans here to her vault," He told him, handing over the key.

The goblin walked to the back of the bank without once looking back at Petunia she ran after him, not wanting to be left behind. 

She stepped into a worn-down cart across from the goblin and barely sat down before it began its descent. The ride was similar to a rollercoaster although there was an added fear due to the lack of a seatbelt.

Petunia gripped the sides of the cart, knuckles white until they slowed to a stop. She had to peel herself from the cart and stumbled a bit when she finally got up. After leaning for a moment on a nearby pillar, she joined the Goblin at her vault. 

The unnamed Goblin stuck the key in the door and it swung open, revealing the Evans trust vault. She knelt and scooped a fair amount of coins into her purse, causing it to grow incredibly heavy. She silently thanked Lily for not abandoning her, even in death.

Once she's finished collecting the galleons, she rides back up to the surface and heads towards the wizarding mail centre. She pens two letters, one addressed to the wretched magical school, telling them her son would not be attending. Before writing her second letter she put her face in her hands, breathing deeply. 

' _Dear_ _Thaddeus,_

_It's been quite a while since we last spoke and I hope you're doing well but I'm afraid I'm going to need to call in that favour. As you most probably know, you are my only connection in the wizarding world. I require a magical tutor for my son and I was hoping that you could find one for him._

_I know this is sudden and seemingly random but I'm afraid that my son's attendance at Hogwarts would put everyone in the family in danger. A tutor is the only way he could learn to control his magic and he must learn to control it._

_Sincerely,_

_Petunia Dursley née Evans_.'

She sighed, folding and tying up the letter before attaching it to an owl's leg. Her sole acquaintance in the wizarding world was not the most stable person in the world. For one, he was rather fond of muggles which was very uncharacteristic for an elder of an old pureblood family. Thaddeus was also very eccentric. He had become something of a recluse, preferring to spend his time writing books on obscure Magics. Either way, she knew he would respond rather quickly and only hoped he would be able to pull through. 

She turned away from the counter where she had attached her two letters to owls. She would just have to trust in her old friend. She walked off, returning to her car. She would not buy any supplies for Dudley until she knew what he needed and she would have to go run another errand so as not to raise Vernon's suspicions.

She cautiously and swiftly made her way back to her car. Once safely in the driver's seat, she slumped forwards onto the wheel. Her life had just become so much harder. 

***

Spending the day at Mrs Figg's had been a bit of a vacation for Harry. The pair spent most of the day sitting in Mrs Figg's back yard with piles of books around them and a few plates of biscuits. All eight of Mrs Figg's cats were outside too, napping in the sun or chasing the others around the small field. Aunt Petunia never called Mrs Figg's house asking him to come home so when darkness fell, they moved inside and sipped punch in the library while looking over increasingly yellow papers.

Harry was taking a break from informational texts and reading 'The Daring Duke' by Jess Michaels for the second time in the last few years when Mrs Figg brought in a pot of tea. He was mentally scolding the main character, Miss Emma Liston, for what seemed like the hundredth time. Honestly, she needed to learn how personal space works. 

Mrs Figg laughed when she saw the title of the book he was reading.

"That seems a bit scandalous for a nearly eleven-year-old Harry" She mock-scolded.

"It's your fault for giving me free rein of your library. Besides, I've read 'Lick'. Not much can shock you after you've read that,"

"You sure are lucky I'm not in the habit of punishing children like some others I know. If I was anyone else, you'd have gotten a good spanking for reading those books," 

Harry rolled his eyes and muttered something about prudish old ladies before turning back to his book. 

Once again, he left her giggling as she settled into the armchair across from his with her own book and her ever-present glass of wine. 

He and Mrs Figg had a strange relationship. She was like his cool, elderly, single aunt who drank wine at all hours of the day. She engaged him in interesting conversations instead of the type of conversations one would have with a child. They discussed new events and politics maturely, and she helped him with his collection of knowledge. She was like no other adult he had ever met and for that, he was grateful. he didn't know how he would stay sane if he didn't visit Mrs Figg every once in a while.

Earlier, she had given him a drink that she assured him would help with the pain in his wrist. While he had doubted it originally, the pain had gradually subsided and he was a little more open now to her strange concoctions. 

In another room, the telephone rang and Mrs Figg went to answer it

"Mhm... Of course...My pleasure...Alright..."

He heard, still reading about Emma Liston's impropriety. Mrs Figg's footsteps shuffled their way back to the library.

"Harry, dear," She told him "It seems that we're having a sleepover tonight!"

"A sleepover?"

"Yes exactly. Your aunt it seems won't be home until late and your uncle... I'm not too sure what he's doing so you get to stay the night,"

Harry grinned 

"Does that mean we can sit in here and read for longer?"

"Of course, what else would we do," 

He settled back into his chair. 

"Hmm, I guess there's no need to rush through the painstaking details of Miss Liston's raunchy behaviour"

"There's always a reason to skip through that part, Harry,"

He sighed closing the book. 

"If you did that, you'd be skipping from the front cover to the back one," 

Setting that book aside, he pulled out the physics theory he had been studying previously. 

"Back to good old physics then, I suppose," 

Mrs Figg simply shot him a toothy grin and returned to her book, sipping her wine sporadically.

Harry fell asleep in the armchair with his book in hand a few hours later. Mrs Figg watched his chest rise and fall fondly. 

How he had endured his treatment from the Dursleys and remained as resilient as he was, was beyond her. She walked over to where he slept and ran a hand through his hair. Sometimes she doubted Dumbledore was right in putting him with those muggles. 

He stirred as she continued to pet his hair.

"Mrs Figg?"

"It's time to get you to bed Harry,"

He nodded groggily and stumbled to his feet, holding on to the older woman so that he didn't fall over. 

She led him up the stairs to her guest bedroom. He flopped into it, not even bothering with the covers. 

"G'night Mrs Figg,"

She smiled warmly at him.

"Good Night Harry," 

She closed the door softly and walked towards her own bedroom. That boy deserved the best and she wished she could give it to him but it was not to be. She resolved to talk to Albus in the morning about everything.

***

_August 1st, 1991:_

After his blissful one day vacation to Mrs Figg's library, Harry's life returned to normal. His version of normal at least. He continued to work as the Dursleys' severely underpaid and mistreated butler, and they continued to carry themselves like royalty, exempt from the rules that governed the rest of the mortals. His life continued to be majorly uneventful, although he found himself in Mrs Figg's library a lot more than he used to. 

His birthday, July 31st, had come and gone. He had been promised a gift from Mrs Figg for a few days, though she told him she sent it through the mail to make it more fun. His gift from her didn't arrive before his birthday so he excitedly watched for the mailman during his daily chores.

It was the next day, that the mailman arrived at privet drive. He excitedly went to get the mail, searching for the envelope addressed to him. He found a forest green envelope with his name scrawled on it in familiar handwriting. It was the same one he sometimes found in the margins of her books, commenting on certain passages or noting quotes. 

As he shuffles through the letters, he finds another with his name on it. The yellowing envelope had his name writing in elegant script. The ink glimmered as though it was still fresh but when he ran his thumb over it didn't smudge at all. He threw the two envelopes in his cupboard carefully before bringing the rest of the mail to his uncle.

He continued to do the work demanded of him for the rest of the day but that evening, instead of crossing the street to go to Mrs Figg's house, he locked himself into his cupboard and opened up his letters. 

The one from Mrs Figg had a birthday card in it and a chain at the bottom. He pulled it up to reveal a beautiful necklace. The teardrop-shaped pendant had a small model of the Apollo 13. It floated around in the slice of space that was the pendant. In the background, stars twinkled in familiar formations. He clutched the necklace to his chest, tears brimming and made a note to thank his proxy aunt thoroughly when he next saw her.

He didn't want to risk her gift being stolen from him by his 'Family' so he stashed it in his cupboard corner before opening the second letter. He tore the envelope open carefully and pulled out a thin piece of paper. it had a strange texture but he ignored it, scanning the words on the paper. He felt his anger grow by the second as he read the letter inviting him to a mystery magic school in Scotland. He crumpled the paper in his fist and threw it across the cupboard which admittedly, is not all that far. He shook with anger.

How dare Dudley do this to him. How dare he send him a letter inviting him to a school for freaks like him. Harry knew he was alone in his predicament. He clearly had some sort of genetic mutation that caused him to do the things he could. While he didn't listen to much Mr and Mrs Dursley said anymore, one thing had been drilled into his head from a young age. There is no such thing as magic. Retrieving his necklace, he latched it onto his neck and tucked the pendant into his huge shirt. He then stalked over to Mrs Figg's house and when she opened the door, he stormed inside. 

She followed him in, sitting down across from where he had seated himself. 

"What's wrong dear?" 

"It's Dudley! He played a horrible prank on me. He-" Harry faltered, not knowing how to explain what happened to Mrs Figg without telling her of his horrible defect. 

"It's quite alright dear, you need not tell me anything," She sympathised

She moved to the spot beside him. 

"It'll be okay Harry, I'm sure your life will take a turn for the better soon enough," 

Harry nearly jumped up as he remembered the envelope he received just before he ran over to his neighbour's.

"Oh, I completely forgot. Thank you for your gift! It's amazing!"

She smiled. "I figure you would like it, with all of your dreams to become an astronaut,"

He smiled back at her, his mood lifting significantly. " Who wouldn't want to leave this world behind for a new one?"

"You'd be surprised," 

He nodded. He didn't see why someone wouldn't want to leave earth to explore the world beyond but he could understand that it may not be for everyone.

"Say, Harry, do giant men break down your front door often? "

"What?" Harry looked at her confused.

"Behind you,"

He whirled around and peered through the window. There was, in fact, a giant man standing in front of his house. The front door looked as though it had been kicked down and the three Dursleys stood, cowering in front of him. 

"I'll be right back," He told Mrs Figg before running out the front door and across the street.

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon? Are you okay?"

The giant man turned around and looked down at him. 

"Ah, you must be 'Arry!" He boomed "I've come to collect you to get your Hog-"

"Maybe we should speak about this inside?" Harry interrupted as Petunia glance around at all the other houses. Many eyes could be seen watching the scene through their curtains. 

"Right ye are Harry. Well then, let's go inside,"

Hagrid carefully ducked through the doorway, his shaggy hair still hitting the top of it. Harry followed suit and closed the door. 

He led Hagrid to the living room and sat him down on the couch, which looked like it was going to snap under his weight. 

"Now, why did you come here looking for me?" Harry demanded. Was he to be used as an experiment? Were they going to put him in a zoo? Dissect him? 

"I'm here to take you to get your supplies for 'ogwarts,"

Harry's anger bubbled up once more. 

"Are you speaking of that prank letter I received? The one that invites me to a school of magic in the middle of the Scottish hills which, for your information, is in the middle of nowhere,"

"It's not a prank, yer a wizard 'Arry"

"Yes, and you're the queen of England" 

"What do ye mean, we don't 'ave a queen. We 'ave the ministry, remember?

Harry sighed. "We most certainly have a queen Mr...?"

" 'Agrid,"

"Right, Mr Hagid, We actually do have a queen and I'm quite sure that you are not her. I believe you may be delusional and you might want to visit a mental hospital sir," 

"Yer a wizard, you can do magic!"

"There's no such thing as magic Mr Hargrid,"

"Explain this then,"

He pulled out his pink umbrella and shot a dull orange light out of it, straight at Dudley. It hit him and instantly, a pink tail sprouted from the end of his tailbone.

Harry gaped, staring at Dudley's butt.

"Still say there's no such thing as Magic 'Arry?"

Harry frowned.

"I think I may have to rethink that," 

"Well, you can think on the way to Diagon Alley,"

"Diagon Alley?"

"It's where you buy your school supplies,"

Harry's eyebrow rose.

"And I'm expected to go into the city alone, with a man I've never met in my life and expect everything to be perfectly fine?" 

"Ye?"

"How do I know I'm not going to get kidnapped or sold into servitude" 

'Not like I'm not already a slave' He thought, watching Hagrid carefully. 

The shock on the giant's face was so genuine that Harry doubted he could've faked it.

"Kidnap you?"

"You know what," He told the man, "I've changed my mind. Let's go to Diagon Alley,"

There were no protests from Vernon and Petunia. They wouldn't particularly care if he got abducted by a strange magical man after all. 

And so, Harry found himself on the tube with an 8-foot tall man named Hagrid, heading towards downtown London. He watched the grey walls speed by, fascinated by the train. It was his first time riding the tube since the Dursleys thought it beneath them. 

They got off at their station and crossed the street, walking a bit before stopping in front of a dingy pub.

"You know, the first time was a joke but I'm starting to truly believe you're part of a trafficking ring," Harry commented as Hagrid led him into the pub. 

"A... traffickin ring?" 

Harry rolled his eyes and fell silent, wondering if all wizards were so ignorant 

Many of the strange men and women in the pub greeted Hagrid. They all dressed as though they were living in the victorian era. ' _Perhaps it's a... dingy cosplay pub?_ ' There were, of course, a few exceptions. A man at the bar wore a purple turban, although it seemed to be improperly wrapped and harry feared that it might fall off at any moment. He seemed to have just wrapped it continuously around his head, resulting in the fabric extending past his face. Should he go outside in the rain, he would not need an umbrella because he had essentially turned his head into one. It was actually a fairly impressive feat. 

Harry shrugged. He knew nothing of wizards, after all, perhaps they practised different religions than muggles.

The man in the turban seemed to notice him too and his eyes immediately flicked to Harry's scar. 

"P-P-Potter?"

As soon as his last name left the man's mouth, everyone in the pub turned around to stare at him. Harry cursed the fact that he had decided to let his hair grow out, eliminating his old bangs. His hair was infuriating when it was short, quite like a rat's nest and it was untameable. When the Dursley's refused to pay for him to get a haircut, he had let it grow down to his shoulders and found it to be much more manageable. He usually tied it back with a ribbon or a piece of string he found around the house and it stayed in its place. Unfortunately for him, trying to cut bangs to cover his scar would have disastrous results and he had no particular interest in looking like a little girl. 

An older woman practically ran up to him with her hand extended. 

"It's an honour to meet you, mister Potter, truly an honour," She told him in an awed voice. Many of the other patrons were nodding their heads and looked as though they wanted to imitate the lady.

He forced a smile onto his face.

"The pleasure is mine Madam but if you would excuse me, I need to get to Diagon Alley,"

He nearly dragged Hagrid away.

"Mister Hagrid, I don't know where I'm going so you're going to have to lead here," 

"Or, right. This way 'Arry" 

He led him out to the back of the pub, where they were faced with an enclosed square of brick walls. 

"My Trafficking comment still stands" Harry muttered as Hagrid moved towards the wall in front of them and tapped the bricks seemingly at random with his umbrella. 

The walls slid apart, revealing a very disorienting sight. Buildings jutted out from the ground at all angles and seemed generally structurally unsound. Signs advertising different shops floated like giant balloons over top of the alley. Men, women and children dressed similarly to the people in the pub strolled down the strangely narrow alley, holding cauldrons and books. 

Unearthly scents wafted to his nose from the various magical restaurants and shops. 

"Wow," He said, eyeing the buildings warily. 

"Do you have your list then 'arry?"

"My list?"

"It was in your Hogwarts letter," 

"Ah...well..." He couldn't quite find the words to tell Hagrid that he crumpled his letter up and threw it into a cupboard.

Hagrid's face scrunched up. "You forgot it?" He guessed.

"Yes," Harry admitted, taking an unconscious step back 

"I think I've got a spare somewhere"

He shoved his giant hands into his equally large pockets and searched for something. He pulled out a severely wrinkled piece of paper and handed it to Harry. 

"Here ye go lad," 

Harry took the paper from Hagrid's hand and as he gripped it, something silver fell out from indie it. Harry bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. 

"Er... Mr Hagrid?"

"Yes 'arry?"

"You dropped this," He handed over the key.

"Ah, yer vault key. Very important," 

"Vault as in bank vault?" 

"Exactly like that,"

Harry's brow wrinkled and he followed Hagrid as the larger man started to make his way farther down the alley.

"But sir... I don't have any money. Why would I have a bank vault?"

"Wherever did ye get that idea? Your parents left you the entire Potter fortune,"

"My parents were drunks. They left me nothing other than my scar," He gestured at his forehead vaguely and Hagrid looked horrified.

"Drunks? Yer parents weren't no drunks. They were good, upstanding and powerful people,"

"How exactly did they die then?"

"How did they die?" Hagrid looked flabbergasted at the question. "You mean Petunia never told you?" 

"No, Aunt Petunia and my mother were not particularly close. I figure she probably didn't know,"

"She most definitely did, we explained everything in the note," 

Harry refrained from question Hagrid on 'the note' and 'we explained'. Instead, he questioned about his parents' death.

"How did they die Hagrid?"

"They were murdered by a powerful dark wizard... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,"

Harry frowned.

"That's a strange name for a wizard supervillain," 

"No one says his real name. 'fraid it might bring him back,"

"He died?"

"He did. And you 'Arry, were the one who killed him. That's how you got that scar o yours," 

"I killed a powerful adult man as an infant?" 

"Aye,"

Harry shook his head. That would explain the Leaky cauldron but Hagrid must've been exaggerating there was no way a one-year-old could beat the evil conqueror of the wizarding world.

They stopped in front of a marble bank. 

"Here we are, Gringotts bank," 

Hagrid pulled Harry inside and they lined up in the designated spot. Soon enough, a till opened and the pair stepped up to it. A small man with wrinkly skin and an odd complexion looked down on them.

"Harry Potter wants to visit his vault," Harry's older companion told the small man.

"And does Mister Potter have his vault key?"

Hagrid fished out the brass key and dropped it into the small man's waiting hand. He looked it over before handing it back to him and calling over another goblin. 

"Griphook will take you to your vault,"

"Oh, hold on, Dumbledore sent me to retrieve the... you know what in the vault... you know which," 

He handed over a slip of paper and the goblin nodded after reading it over. 

The goblin turned to Griphook. 

"Take them to vaults 713 and 687"

Griphook cast a contempt filled glance at Harry and Hagrid before turning on his heel.

"Follow me,"

The pair scurried after him until they got to a medium minecart.

"Get in" 

They quickly obeyed and as soon as they climbed into the cart, it started rolling away. The ride was rickety and panic-inducing. The cart had obviously not been built to transport people as large and heavy as Hagrid and it did not seem like it could hold itself together for much longer. luckily, they quickly stopped at their first stop. Harry stayed in the cart while Hagrid climbed out. 

He craned his neck to watch the goblin open up the vault, expecting to see piles of gold and silver and jewels. Instead, it was completely empty bar one oval, wrapped in cloth. Hagrid picked it up, shoved it into his pocket (Those things seemed to be endless), and returned to the cart. Harry winced when he heard cracking sounds but said nothing. 

They continued down the track for only a minute before stopping again. This time, everyone exited the cart. They stood in front of his vault and the small man slid the key right into the door. The key turned on its own and the vault door swung open. The inside of his vault perfectly fit his idea of a wizarding bank vault. Though there was an absence of jewellery, he had gold, silver and bronze coins in spades. 

The goblin wordlessly handed him a dark red velvet bag. He took the hint and hunched over, scooping piles of coins into his bag. He seriously underestimated the size of the bag and when he thought that he had filled the whole thing, he peered into the bag and saw that only a third of the bag had been filled. He glowered at the space then started scooping faster and with bigger armfuls. It took him a good minute but he eventually managed to fill the entire bag.

Once it was full, Harry eyed the bag warily, contemplating how to drag it over to the cart. Trying to test out its weight, he gave it a hard tug. The bag, which was light as a feather, went flying over his head and smacked against a wall before falling into a pile of coins. He wasn't too sure how to feel about that. On one hand, magic was bloody awesome. On the other, he now had to crawl over piles of cold metal to get to his bag. 

It took Harry a few minutes to retrieve his bag. He joined Hagrid and Griphook back in the cat and they started their ascension. It took them longer to return to the main level. By the time they arrived, Harry was counting down the seconds until the cart imploded on them. He scrambled out as quickly as he could and waited in the well-lit bank as Hagrid lumbered slowly towards him. 

Once they were outside, Harry asked the question that had been burning inside of him since he caught sight of the first small man.

"Hagrid... what exactly was Griphook?"

Hagrid looked startled.

"Why, a Goblin o' course,"

Harry hummed in acknowledgement. He didn't think he would be able to take in any new information with all the shocks he was getting today. And then he caught sight of a cute second-hand bookstore and his mind felt absolutely perfect for absorbing information.

"Hagrid, can we go in there first?" He asked excitedly.

"Yer books are going to be heavy 'Arry. It would be better to stop by the Apothecary, Olivander's and Madam Malkin's before getting any books,"

Harry nodded. It was true that books could be heavy and getting the lighter things first was a sound plan. He shot one last longing look at the bookstore before telling Hagrid to lead the way to their first stop. 

Their first stop, the apothecary was a calming place. Sunlight shone through windows, skillfully avoiding any Ingredients that sat on the shelves. He let Hagrid do the talking and opted to simply look around. The atmosphere made him feel like he was standing in a castle tower in the early hours of the day. 

They walked out with a standard potions kit, including a real-life cauldron. Next, they stopped at Madam Malkin's robe shop. Hagrid was too large to fit through the doorway so Harry had to run that errand by himself while his Giant companion waited outside. It was jarring to stand with your arms out on either side for an attendant to measure you. Even worse, an obnoxious blonde was trying to chat him up as well. Many of the things that came out of the small boy's mouth Harry didn't understand but it all sounded distinctly racist. He got away from child bigot as fast as he could when the attendant handed him his robes, tired of nodding and making noncommital sounds.

He spotted Hagrid easily in the sea of people and made his way over. The man was now carrying a cage containing a beautiful snowy owl. 

" 'Appy birthday 'Arry!" He exclaimed, handing the cage over to him.

Harry smiled softly. For all his doubts about the man, he was very nice. He had no obligation as a staff member to buy him a gift and yet he did. 

"Thank you very much, Hagrid," 

Hagrid rubbed his beard a bit and nodded before grabbing the arm of Harry's terribly oversized shirt. 

"Now, to yer favourite stop"

The bookstore where they bought Harry's schoolbooks was not the same store he had been eyeing earlier but books were books and he was glad to be surrounded by knowledge. After picking up his school textbooks, he browsed other popular books. He bemusedly bought his own biography as well as a book titled witchcraft through the ages, detailing everything from contact with muggles to types of magic to magical tools. 

After his stop at the book store, they had only one more place to visit before they could head home.

A bell chimed from somewhere in Olivander's wand shop when Harry and Hagrid walked in. There was no one behind the counter and with a cursory glance around, Harry confirmed that no one was in the front of the shop.

"Mr Ollivander?"

"That would be me, young man." A voice said softly from behind him. "How can I help you,"

Harry whirled around to find a short, elderly man standing behind him. His silver hair stuck out at all angles, even more than Harry's own. He pulled off the Albert Einstein look surprisingly well.

"I'm here to get my wand," 

"Of course Mister Potter, let's get started,"

Harry didn't even bother asking how the man knew his name. He just followed him towards the counter and waited while he retrieved a stack of long boxes. He brought back the pile, set it down and started pulling long, polished wands out of them. 

"Cedar, 13 inches. Unicorn hair core"

He handed it to Harry and looked at him expectantly.

"Go on, give it a wave," 

A single wave caused every piece of ceramic and glass in the store to shatter.

"Definitely not that one,"

He put the wand back into its box carefully and set it aside, then handed Harry another wand. This one caused equally disastrous results when it was waved.

They continued like that for nearly fifteen minutes before Olivander's rubbed his chin pensively, seemingly at a loss. 

"Maybe..." He trailed off and plucked a wand box from the top of the shelves behind him. 

"Holy, 11 inches. Pheonix feather core"

As Harry gripped the wand, he somehow knew this was the one. It felt right in his hands, buzzed with energy that the others didn't have. He waved it and a few notes of the melodic trill of a phoenix song rang through the air.

"Curious, very curious," 

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is curious?" 

"It is curious that that wand is destined for you when its brother is the one that gave you that scar,"

"Brother?" 

Olivander's face contorted into a strange type of smile.

"Curious one aren't you? No matter, brother wands are wands whose cores come from the same animal. They are, as you can imagine, not exceedingly rare but the phoenix that gave the feather for your wand only ever gave two," He explained. 

Harry nodded in understanding. 

"Thank you very much Mr Olivander. How much for the wand?" 

"7 galleons,"

Harry pulled the coins out of his pouch of deceit and placed them on the counter.

"Goodbye Mister Olivander!" He exclaimed before walking out of the shop.

As he returned all the boxes to their proper spots, Ollivander shook his head. Harry Potter was certainly a strange boy. 

Hagrid brought Harry home the same way they got to Diagon Alley. He left him on his doorstep, with a train ticket and instructions on when to be a King's Cross Station on September first.

His good mood, however, was quickly spoiled as he walked through the door. His uncle was sitting on the sofa, red as a tomato.

"So you think you get to go to a fancy freak school do you?" He snarled, standing when Harry walked in. "Not when you're living under my roof you're not. You aren't going to some Scottish castle to learn how to wave a bloody stick. I will not allow it,"

Harry stepped back out the front door, trying to put space between him and Vernon.

"You're going to throw out all those freakish supplies and your new freakish clothes. And you're going to forget today ever happened." Vernon continued to advance and Harry nearly tripped over the curb trying to get away.

"You don't get to go to school with the normal boys so I'll be damned if you go somewhere that they encourage freakishness," He was in the front lawn now, barefoot and wearing an old t-shirt.

"Magic isn't real boy. You're just a freak with a birth defect,"

Harry's back hit Mrs Figg's door. "No no no no no " he muttered as Vernon got closer and closer.

Suddenly the door behind him opened and he fell onto Mrs Figg's strange orange rug.

"Are you alright Harry?" She asked, glancing between him and his uncle.

"Peachy," he muttered from her floor.

Assessing the situation, she turned back to Harry's uncle.

"I was working on my garden the other day you know, Vernon," She said, causing his shoulders to droop in defeat and annoyance. "And I know your nephew here is a mighty fine gardener. I was wondering if you could lend him to me for the rest of the summer before he goes back to school,"

Vernon looked at her dubiously.

"I'll feed him of course. He can even sleep here. I just need an extra hand out back,"

As Vernon realised what she was saying, his expression lightened up a bit. It was clear in his eyes that getting rid of Harry for the rest of the summer would be amazing and the opportunity was one too great to pass up.

"Of course Arabella. I've no problem with it,"

"Wonderful. And Harry, get up off the floor please,"

Harry flushed from his spot on the carpet and pulled himself up.

"Go and retrieve your things quickly so that you may start in the garden,"

He nodded and ran to get his things while Mrs Figg engaged Vernon in conversation.

He shoved everything that he had in the cupboard in a tattered tote before rushing back to Mrs Figg's house. 

She smiled when she saw him, said goodbye to Vernon and rushed him into her house.

"You can take the same room you slept in during our last sleepover,"

He nodded and brought his tote and his school supplies up the stairs to the spare room.

She glanced at the cauldron he had left by the front door and sighed. Albus had told her not to interfere, not to let him know of her connection to the wizarding world but in her moment of terror induced weakness, she might as well have done just that. He would know the truth soon, sooner than they thought. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The books that I have mentioned are, in fact, real books. These books were published after 1991 however if I was going to be mentioning things from books, I thought it was better to use books I was at least vaguely familiar with. My apologies if my use of more modern literature bothers any of you.


	4. Nott What Petunia Expected

***

Petunia heard the soft flapping of wings before she saw the owl. It was a beautiful creature, with its beige and white speckled wings and its pure black eyes.

She opened the window discreetly to let it in, seeing that it had a roll of parchment attached to its leg.

It flew in gracefully and perched itself on a dining room chair. She carefully untied the scroll and opened it. She had no need to skip to the bottom to find out who the sender was because she already knew. She had only kept in contact with one wizard since Lily had stopped attending Hogwarts. She hadn't ever been in contact with too many but she had met a few at the train station and at her sister's wedding.

'Petunia,' It read, 'It has indeed been a long time my friend. I regret that I have not found time to correspond with you in all these years. Life seems to get in the way of everything these days. Alas, you're in luck. I have just returned from my 2-year research project in the wizarding sectors of the Republic of Congo to document all the magical flora and fauna there! It was positively fascinating and my observations will surely find themselves in my memoirs.

Since I am currently without a project, I believe that training your son will be something for me to work on. It's been years since I've taken on an apprentice with all my travels and admittedly strange quirks but I feel that I could spare seven years to properly train your little Dudders. He may do his training in my new home. Did I mention I've just moved? Moving on, I can take him to collect the supplies we'll need for his first few years. I'm afraid my curriculum will be a bit skewed from Hogwarts' so I'll need some different things.

I'm aware you and your husband had plans to send Dudley to Smeltings? It's a wonderful one, he should not neglect his education in either world. Most wizards know nothing of Science or Mathematics. I find it surprising that most even know how to read and write by the time they get to school at 11. I expect you know of the standards I hold my students to, considering that Lily was the last one I took on. You must adequately prepare your son for what is to come. I will not tolerate many things that are common in eleven-year-old children and I will not hesitate to make him aware of that. There will be no coddling. The work he will have to do is going to be hard and taxing but he will be a very able young man and wizard for it.

I shall be over in a few days Pet, perhaps you'll be able to take a look around my new home. It's not quite as large as I'm used to but it's very cosy and perfect for my temporary residence.

I'm also well aware of the... views of your husband. I've never understood what you saw in that man. He's quite the bigot. All training of your son will be done with the uttermost discretion. I will not have your son learning a skill that is his birthright endangering you or him.

Best Regards,

Thaddeus of House Nott.'

She frowned at the letter. Thaddeus must be nearby if he could be over within the next few days. He wasn't too keen on wizarding teleportation and preferred normal methods of transport.

She got a small pad of paper and penned a small 'Thank you -Petunia' before attaching it to the owl and watching it fly off into the night. She then tiptoed up the stairs to her son's room. She carded her hand through his hair, effectively waking him.

"Mum?"

"Hey there Sleepyhead. Are you ready to go on an adventure love?"

Dudely shuddered when she called him 'love' but still sat up at the mention of an adventure.

"An adventure? But it's nearly midnight,"

"It's a late-night adventure,"

She smiled conspiratorially at her son the same way she used to when they would go on adventures to find the family dog in the back yard during his early youth.

He returned the smile, one he hadn't seen in years.

"An adventure," He repeated, climbing out of bed.

"Dress warmly, who knows where our adventure will take us,"

Dudley didn't even need to ask if his father was coming along with them. Their adventures had always been between him and his mother, their own little secret. They would go digging for some long lost pirate treasure supposedly buried in the back yard (A couple of 5p coins) or to find a beautiful animal (Usually one of elderly Mrs Figg's cats)

He slipped on his jumper and some trousers before quietly walking down the stairs to join his mother. His freakish cousin had moved into the neighbour's house until the end of the summer so that he could help her with her garden. Dudley would be at Smeltings by the time he moved back in so he would not have to look at the wide-eyed, bespectacled freak until next July.

He sees her standing by the front door, car keys dangling from her index finger. When she caught sight of him, she gestured towards the door before opening it and slipping out.

Dudley pulled on his favourite pair of trainers before hurrying after his mother, morbidly curious about her 'Adventure'.

He climbs into the passenger seat of her car. A small basket sat innocently in the backseat and his mother face was an odd mix of carefree and anxious.

They pulled out of their driveway and drove off into the night. It was a peaceful drive, silent for the most part but not a hostile silence. He watched the stars out of the window, appreciating their beauty and then berating himself for it.

He was the leader of a gang after all. Small as his may be, gang leaders did not appreciate the beauty of twinkling stars in the night. He scowled at the stars instead.

He glanced over at his mother. Her eyes were fixed on the road, not sparing a glance at anything else.

Taking a look at the scenery, Dudley wondered where they were. They had pulled off the highway some time ago and were driving down smaller, more scenic roads.

He did not wonder long though. Petunia parked the car in the parking lot of a small park. There was a wide field beside a small, rusting playground. A small sandbox was nestled in a ring of bushes and a short dirt trail connected it to the playground.

Petunia grabbed the basket and made her way out to the centre of the field, her son trailing behind her. She took a plush blanket out of the basket and set it down on the ground and threw some pillows down. She then sat in a graceful manner.

Dudley sat next to her, on a noticeably bigger crop of pillows.

"Mum?" He asked. He was still clueless as to why they were sitting on the grass in a field in the middle of nowhere. It was nearing dawn then and birds chirped from the trees that formed a loose ring around the field and the greenery in between them.

"What do you know of Magic, Dudders?" Petunia asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Magic?"

Petunia gestured at the sunrise above them.

"This sunrise for example. It is pretty magical."

He gazed incredulously at his mother, wondering for the first time if she had actually just gone barmy.

"I suppose." He said indulgently

"What if you could make something happen at will. Create a sunrise as beautiful as this one with but a wave and some willpower,"

Dudley simply stared at his mum.

"That is true magic. Wand waving. Potion making. Creature taming. The kinds of things Harry used to do before your father tried to beat it out of him,"

Dudley looked indignantly at her on behalf of his father. Beating it out of him made it sound crude, unnecessary and violent. It was not unnecessary to put a freak in his place. It was not violent to beat and lock up that which is not human. Dogs were locked in their cages all the time, left outside in their doghouse during the coldest weather. Why should a freak, something even lower than a dog, be treated as a human? It was unnatural.

"What are you speaking of the freak for?" He sneered.

Petunia gave him a hard look he was wholly unfamiliar with.

"That freak has done quite a bit for you Dudley,"

"He does what he should do. He is a freak of nature and he is beneath us regular people. Anything he's done for me is because a life of serving good people like us is more than he deserves,"

"Normal?" Petunia asked.

"Obviously,"

She put a perfectly manicured hand to her temple to massage it.

"Dudley, that is why we are here. You are well aware of the boy's strange visitor a few days ago. The one that took him into the magical world and all that,"

"That man was spouting rubbish and you know it, mum,"

"I'm afraid he wasn't,"

Dudley contemplated the idea before taking on a disgusted expression.

"You mean there are MORE freaks? A world full of them? We need some kind of exterminator,"

"Dudders, you're not making this any easier for me,"

"Tell me what you have to say then, mum,"

He said, still scowling at the idea of a freak world. 'It would be a circus' he thought as his mother stared down at him, her earlier anxiety much more evident.

"Dudley, you are a wizard"

His first reaction was to laugh. And laugh he did, shaking uncontrollably. He had never heard his mother make a joke before but if they were all as good as that one, she would make a bloody good comedian.

When his chuckles faded away, he looked back at his mum, only to see her gnawing worriedly on her bottom lip.

"Wait. You're serious?"

"Unfortunately,"

The implications caught up to Dudley and his face fell.

"I'm... a freak?"

"No, of course not,"

"Don't lie to me!" He cried, burying his face into his hands. "The freak... he's a freak because he's unnatural. I have the same ability. I'm also unnatural. So I'm a freak,"

"No Dud,"

"You're lying. You have to be lying," He moaned "I can't be the same as him,"

"You're not. Look Dudders, the fact is that you are a wizard. You can do magic. Now, you can bemoan your unfortunate abnormality for the rest of your life or you can learn how to use it. Prove that you're better, stronger than your pathetic little cousin,"

Dudley lifted his tearstained face from his hands to stare at his mother. His eyes scanned her for any kind of dishonesty, finding only blazing conviction and mild irritation there. He contemplated his options. He was unnatural, yes but this was his chance to become better than everyone else. Superheroes were freaks too in a sense. He would have to become a superhero then.

Mind made, he gave his mother a firm nod.

"How do I learn?" He asked with uncharacteristic determination.

A small but genuine smile distorted Petunia's face.

"I already have a teacher for you. It's going to be hard work, but you're going to be a force to be reckoned with,"

***

Dudley had not quite adjusted to the fact that he was to learn magic by the time they arrived on his tutor's doorstep the next day. Admittedly, he had only had a few hours to adjust and the tutor's house was a very short walk away.

Even his mum had been surprised when she read the address to his prospective tutor's house. She had then snorted amusedly and cursed under her breath. She had then informed him that he would not be needing his coat and that they would have to hurry up so that they could get home before his Dad.

Dudley raised his fist hesitantly. Before he could move to knock, the door swung open by itself, revealing a regal looking, willowy man. His golden skin and mahogany eyes seemed to glow unnaturally in the sunlight.

He glanced down before grinning and moving out of the doorway.

"Dudley, Pet! Come in, come in... I've been expecting you two,"

Dudley gave his mother a sidelong glance before stepping into the house. Petunia followed behind him and the door shut of its own accord.

"I apologise for the door, it's very temperamental, doesn't much like to be knocked on,"

Both Dursleys look at him blankly.

Thaddeus awkwardly smiled again before moving past the two Dursleys and into the hallway.

"Let us adjoin in the sitting room, right this way," He strode down the hallway.

Petunia and Dudley scurried behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides.

The sitting room was tastefully decorated. It spoke of money and class but it was not obnoxious.

"Sit," Thaddeus gestured at two lavish chairs placed near a coffee table, "I'll put on some tea,"

He waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen before settling into his own chair, crossing his legs.

"So, Dudley, Pet here tells me you're a wizard and are in need of instruction,"

Dudley nodded slowly.

Thaddeus clapped his hands together excitedly.

"Wonderful!" He extended a hand, "My name is Thaddeus Tiberius Nott but you may call me Thaddeus,"

A slow smile spread across Dudley's face as he shook hands with the excitable and strange man.

"Dudley..." He trailed off, realising he didn't know his middle name. Petunia sighed.

"Dudley Vernon Dursley," She supplied.

"But you can call me Dudley,"

"Indeed, I will,"

The kettle went off in the kitchen and another wave of Thaddeus' hand had it floating towards them with three cups and a teapot.

"Now Dudley, You are aware of how difficult an apprenticeship with me will be? I am told that I'm a very exigent teacher and you will also be attending muggle school. You will be expected to keep up your studies in both," He warned as the kettle poured boiling water into the teapot and floated back into the kitchen.

Dudley nodded.

"Well then. If I'm correct and you'll be attending Smeltings private school, you will attend classes throughout the day. We will have sessions twice a day, every day. One in the morning from 7 to 8 so that you can eat and get to your classes on time. After your classes finish, you will be joining me for four more hours,"

Dudley's eyes widened. He had classes for seven hours in a day already and Thaddeus was adding an extra five. Then he would have to complete his homework and get enough sleep to be able to get up and go to Thaddeus' classes the next day. He sincerely doubted he would have any time to socialise with his classmates at all.

"That's... quite the schedule,"

"Mm, it is, isn't it?" Thaddeus took a sip of his tea which had been poured int his cup while he was talking. " I could always add an extra hour of magical studies somewhere if you'd like,"

"No!" Dudley shouted before turning red in embarrassment, "I mean... That won't be necessary Thaddeus but thank you for the offer,"

Thaddeus chuckled before rising abruptly and stalking out of the room. Dudley and Petunia watched the doorway that led to the hallway warily as Thaddeus returned with a cloak draped around his shoulders.

"Well then, if that is all sorted out, it seems that it's time for you to get a wand Dudley! Petunia, did you want to accompany us?"

"Are you two going to Diagon Alley?"

"No, I have an old friend who's a wand maker and he owes me a favour. He lives in New York though so we'll have to apparate,"

Petunia wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"I'm alright, you two enjoy your stint in America,"

Thaddeus's eyes shone with hidden amusement as he turned to Dudley.

"Dudley... tell me, have you ever wished you could teleport?"

***

Harry had just finished his last-minute packing when the doorbell rang on September first, the day he would finally be going to Hogwarts. Slinging his trunk over his shoulder (which was rather painful) and grabbing his snowy owl, Hedwig's cage, he raced down the stairs.

Mrs Figg had already opened the door and was chatting with Hagrid when Harry raced down the stairs so face that he tripped on the landing and fell face-first down the rest of the stairs. Blood trickled down from his nose and between his lip as he sat up, noticing the contents of the trunk had been strewn across the ground.

He groaned, ignoring the blood and crawled over to his trunk, stuffing everything back into it. Once he had shoved everything into it, he closed the trunk with no little effort. He then stood, wiped his nose with the sleeve of his hand me down shirt, and picked up Hedwig.

" 'lo Mister Hagrid," He greeted cheerfully, ignoring the blood that had resumed it's trickling down the lower half of his face.

Hagrid looked on, mildly horrified and very amused

" 'lo 'Arry. Let's get going, yeah?"

"Alright." Harry followed Hagrid out the door where a particularly large motorbike was parked.

"We're getting to King's Crossing in that?"

"Course we are. Wha'd you expect?"

"Er... well something a bit more magical,"

Hagrid chuckled as he ushered Harry onto the bike.

"Ye won't be disappointed there 'Arry. This bike's plenty magical,"

Harry raised a sceptical eyebrow but had no time to comment as Hagrid climbed in front of him and revved the engine.

" 'old on 'Arry" He warned, flicking a pair of goggles down from where they previously sat, nearly swallowed by his wild mane of hair.

Then the bike took off. It floated a couple of feet off the grown then sped down privet drive at high speeds. They didn't slow down at all during the ride to London King's Cross. When they stopped abruptly in front of the train station, Harry was nearly thrown off the bike from the momentum. He gripped Hagrid's large waist for dear life, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

He stepped hesitantly onto the pavement and was momentarily disorientated by the feeling off the solid ground underneath him. After regaining his bearings, He gratefully took the trunk Hagrid was holding out for him, as well as the train ticket.

"Never again," He rumbled under his breath before smiling forcedly at Hagrid.

"Thank you for the ride, Mister Hagrid," He told the man, earning him a grin.

"Anytime 'Arry! I'll be seeing you at 'Ogwarts then."

"Wait!" Harry cried out as Hagrid revved the engine again, preparing to leave, "I don't know where-"

Hagrid sped off into the streets of London, leaving Harry standing alone and wide-eyed in front of the train station.

Harry blew some windswept Hair out of his face before turning around and scowling at the grand entrance of King's Cross. And if any of the surrounding travellers thought it odd that a twelve-year-old was making his way into the train station, muttering obscenities and carrying with him a caged owl, they didn't show it.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I've started a new project before finishing my three other plot ideas. I'm beginning to see a pattern here. I'm doing my best to break it though and I'll try to resist my urge to take this down in six months when I'll find the whole concept and plotline childish. For now, enjoy!


End file.
